She Loved You Anyway
by spoopy.rock
Summary: Despite all the things wrong, Tonks still loves Remus


Her vibrant hair was bright pink and often spikey. Sometimes, it was blonde and curly, usually when she was tired. It would bounce whenever she moved her head. Sometimes, her hair was a short and neat bob; as if to make her seem older and more mature than she actually was. Other times, it was mousy and brown, the same shade has him. He would wonder why. She was young in nature, bubbly in personality, physically clumsy. She had a slightly demanding demeanour.

He went on a mission with her. He enjoyed it and came with her on more. They talked. They laughed and they protected. It became clear that they were in love. He was afraid to admit it.

Because deep down, he knew that he was a monster.

She knew.

But she loved him anyway.

* * *

His hair was often shaggy and brown. Occasionally, it would be neater and shorter, usually after Mrs. Weasley cut it. He wore the look of an older man, one that has suffered, lost loved ones, been isolated and feared. He acted detached, afraid of his own self. She would wonder about his past and then make up possibilities as to why he was that way. He was younger than he looked, but he was dull in nature, lonely in personality, and physically careful. He barely smiled, but when he did, his scars would temporarily disappear.

They went on missions together. She enjoyed his presence and wondered if he felt the same way. During the snatches of free time, they would laugh and talk together, him becoming a whole new person whenever they did so. She looked forward to being with him.

They fought. They battled and they stood by one another's side during the hard times. They supported each other, they helped one another and they held themselves strong together.

Because deep down, she knew she loved him.

But he was a werewolf, a feared creature, a monster.

She knew. She understood his pain. She knew he was to be feared.

But she loved him anyway.

* * *

Whenever he watched the Weasleys together at the dining table, he felt happy for them. Even though they were poorer than other families, even though they didn't own many expensive possessions, even though they often struggled with money, they were always there for each other. They had each other to lean onto for help, for love, for support. They always found a way to make ends meet.

He had no one left in the world to love him or to support him.

He was very, and truly happy for them whenever they had good news to share.

But deep down, he was envious. He was jealous. He wondered for brief moments on what would happen if one of them were to lose their job or to die. He despised those thoughts, he hated himself for thinking those hateful things.

For whatever reason, he asked Mrs. Weasley about it one late night when everyone went off to bed. His troubled thoughts and Mrs. Weasley's need to clean the Order's hideout gave him the opportunity.

Mrs. Weasley's answer was what he had expected: She would fight her hardest to support her husband's case. Even if they lost, she would work all day, all night to find employment. Even if it meant working several jobs, and rarely having a moment to rest, she would support and love her family.

She smiled a knowing smile at him as he went off to think.

She taught that when it came to love, even if there were tall barriers and hard fences, love would find a way to thrive.

Mrs. Weasley was very kind. He wanted to remember her words, to use them.

He wondered if he would anyone would love him the same way. He thought about it, even though he knew the answer deep, deep down.

But he knew he was too old for Tonks

She knew just as well.

But she loved him anyway.

* * *

She knew that full moons were hard on him. They would make him howl in pain, toss and turn in fevered dreams, it would remind him of his suffering. He would wake up older by a year when it had just been a day. She would open the door a crack to find his blood on the ground, scratches covering his body, him, scared and scarred. She knew it would be foolish to enter during his transformation.

And yet she did.

She endured pain, she lost blood, she became scarred.

She understood why he was to be feared.

She knew she should hate him for what he did to her, he ripped her skin, tore her flesh. Lapped up her blood. He could have bitten her. He had endangered her.

But she loved him anyway.

If not, more.

* * *

He knew what he had done. He hated himself for it. He punished himself.

He scratched and clawed and ripped at his skin whenever he could. He let his blood seep onto the cool, wooden floor as he fell asleep, tired and hurt.

He didn't know that she knew. She made Wolfsbane for him.

He thought it was from Snape. He dumped it out the window.

She was patient. She made more.

He found out and drank it like an obedient child. He wished to not hurt her more than he already had.

She would smile and hold him after he transformed; he wished she would not, he felt guilty.

After all, who could love a monster like him?

He didn't accept it, he pulled himself away, even though it hurt her.

She knew what he was doing. She knew it was pointless, loving a beast like him.

And yet, she loved him anyway.

* * *

Even after a year, he was much older and much poorer, he didn't change. He lay in his room, howling and shredding himself to pieces. Scars covered his body, bite marks peppered his body.

He took the Wolfsbane that she made for him before she left. He ran out. He hurt himself. He endured the pain that he had without the potions. He tried to calm his mind. It didn't work, so he eventually went back to ripping himself apart. His blood seeped from his broken body onto the ground. He dreamt fevered dreams, he thrashed around, he woke up and scratched until every inch of his skin burned with pain.

One day, when she went back to visit him, she found him on the ground, writhing with pain, clawing at his fur. She went inside the room, and he gripped the bed frame to prevent himself from lashing at her.

He saw her pink hair morph into mousy brown, he saw her crouch down and pet him. He flinched at her touch, he shivered as her hand brushed down his spine, he growled as she ran her hands along his furry body. He snapped at her, begging her to go. He shivered in fear of what he might do to her. The man continued to struggle against the wolf. He needed her to leave.

He knew he was too dangerous for her.

He knew she knew.

And yet, she loved him anyway.

* * *

She admitted her love for him. He made excuses, he was too old, too poor, too dangerous. He was a beast, she was young and whole.

She didn't listen. She wanted him to love her, to help her the same way she loved him.

She knew he would never admit the truth.

But he did. And they married.

He left her. She cried, begged him to come back. He knew he shouldn't. But he returned.

She knew he had abandoned her. She should have treated him with icy silence, leave him, punish him.

She knew she ought to hate him.

But she loved him anyway.

* * *

It was the night of the final battle. He intended to go without her.

She followed him, he caught sight of her mousy brown hair blowing in the fierce wind of the battle, as beautiful and deadly and breathtaking as it always was. He asked her why. He wanted her to be safe. Her response was, "It's you who needs me tonight."

He pleaded for her to go home, to be safe, to wait for him to return. She didn't listen, she knew he needed her, she needed him.

She fought fiercely, bravely, valiantly. It was for a cause in which she believed in.

They fought together, side by side, beating away the darkness to reveal a path for a brighter future.

He knew he was too old, too poor, too dangerous for her.

But she loved him anyway.

And he loved her back.


End file.
